


to reclaim your crown

by stammiviktor



Series: On Your Every Word [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Follow-up set after 'On Your Every Word', Hurt/Comfort, It's Recovery Time Babey!!!, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Soft Husbands, Trauma Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stammiviktor/pseuds/stammiviktor
Summary: “Yuuri. I’m not mad. I’m just… confused.”“Why?”Viktor swallows. He bunches the fabric of his pajama pants beneath his hands and forces his face to remain neutral. “I don’t get why you won’t touch me.”
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: On Your Every Word [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738324
Comments: 50
Kudos: 268





	to reclaim your crown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kazul9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazul9/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Kaz!! And thank you so much for coming up with this idea in the first place, I loved writing it <3 
> 
> Thank you to [Rachel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrome/pseuds/Chrome) for beta-ing!
> 
> The [gorgeous art](https://twitter.com/mandolinearts/status/1259509995391143938?s=19) you see below is by the amazingly talented Kathe (mandolinearts)! You can check out more of their art on [twitter](https://twitter.com/mandolinearts?lang=en)!

...

“Prince Biku-toru! Look at my plié!”

Across the studio, a little girl in a purple leotard stands in first position. With one hand on the barre, she bends softly at the knees and straightens back up again. 

“That was beautiful, Aiko,” Viktor compliments. “Can you practice it ten more times for me before you leave?”

She flashes him a grin. One of her front teeth is missing. “Will you watch me?”

“I’m helping Eiji with fourth position right now.” Viktor inclines his head toward the little boy standing awkwardly at his side. “But tell me when you finish and I will watch your last one, alright?” 

“Okay!”

Five minutes later, Viktor leads his class of beginner students in their cool down exercises. Then he waves them goodbye as their parents come to pick them up, until he stands alone in his studio.

The solitude doesn’t last long. 

“How were classes today?” 

The mirrored walls give Viktor a perfect view of the man leaning against the doorway behind him. Viktor’s face brightens as he turns around. 

“Yuuri! What are you doing here?” The studio is not far from the castle, but it’s at least a five minute walk from the front gates. 

At the sound of Viktor’s voice, a ball of fur appears in the doorway. _“Woof!”_

“I finished early.” Yuuri shrugs. “So thought I’d take Makkachin for a walk and escort my husband home.”

“Makkachin!” Viktor exclaims, crouching down to greet her as she barrels towards him. “I missed you, yes I did, yes I _did.”_ As he scratches her ears, he turns his attention back to his husband. “And offering to walk me home? You’re such a gentleman, _Yuuu-_ ri.”

“I try.”

Makkachin, delighting in the attention, rolls belly-up on the ground. Her tongue hangs out of her mouth.

“Has Papa Yuuri been neglecting you?” Viktor coos as he rubs her stomach.

“Don’t let her fool you! I pet her for at least twenty minutes before we left.”

Viktor laughs. “But she’s such a good girl, so she gets all of the tummy rubs she wants, yes she does.” Makkachin’s belly is soft, her fur warm. Every time Viktor pets her, he thinks, _I love her so much I could explode._

He thinks something similar every time he looks at Yuuri, too.

From the corner of his eye, Viktor sees Yuuri approach them. Viktor assumes he’s going to reach out and pet their dog, but instead he lays a hand on the back of Viktor’s head. Yuuri’s thumb rubs over the hair tie Viktor had used to secure the top half of his hair before practice. It was getting too long to leave down, but not long enough to put up in a ponytail. 

Unconsciously, Viktor leans his head into Yuuri’s touch.

“This is new,” Yuuri observes, referring to the hair tie.

Viktor, frankly, couldn’t care less about his new hairdo. He’s been missing Yuuri all day—all _week,_ really, because he’s been so busy writing correspondences to Saga’s ambassador in Phayao. If the door to his studio weren’t wide open to the public, Viktor would pull Yuuri down on the floor beside him and kiss him until their lips went numb.

“Let’s go home,” Viktor urges. “It’s Friday, and I don’t think I can wait one more minute for _Okaasan’s_ katsudon.” And then afterward, that night, when they are alone...

They walk back hand in hand, Makkachin trotting along happily behind them. They wave hello to the Sagan citizens that call out to them from buildings and market stalls. Viktor, born a palace servant, will never, _ever_ get used to hearing them call him their prince.

(Well, technically prince _consort,_ but no one seems to care about technicalities. Least of all the people of Saga, who adopted him and his thick Rossiyan accent and sordid past the moment he stood up for himself at the treaty signing a year and a half ago.)

At dinner, he eats two servings of katsudon and tells his chosen family all about his day—about feisty Aiko and shy Eiji from his beginner class, and his progress teaching choreography to the intermediate class. 

Stomachs full, Viktor and Yuuri walk back to their chambers at a leisurely pace. “I’m thinking of doing a demonstration for the advanced class next week, if you’re up for it?”

“Yes, please, anything that’s not writing letters to Phayao.”

“Is everything…?”

“Oh, no, everything’s fine, it’s just exhausting.”

“If you want to switch jobs, I think you’d have a lot of fun corralling five year olds.”

“And leave you to do the diplomatic work?”

“That’s true, I wouldn’t be very good at it.”

Yuuri raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? You would be amazing at diplomacy! I just meant it wouldn’t be much fun for you.”

Viktor shrugs. “Well, I never went to school.”

“Vitya, seriously. You are by far the most intelligent person I know. You taught yourself Sagan in less than a year!”

Despite himself, Viktor feels heat rising in his cheeks. “You’re sweet, Yuuri. And you’re right, anyway. I definitely don’t want to trade jobs.”

At night, they read in bed together. Yuuri, because he is Yuuri and wants nothing more than to make Viktor happy and comfortable in his new home, has been trying to learn Rossiyan. Each night, Viktor lays his head in Yuuri’s lap and Yuuri runs his fingers through his hair as he reads a Rossiyan bedtime story. His pronunciation is slow and labored, but every word in his native language is like music to Viktor’s ears. 

Tonight, Viktor lays his head in Yuuri’s lap and Yuuri starts to read, but there are no fingers in his hair. He does not know if Yuuri even notices the change. He thinks for a moment about asking, but decides against it. He shouldn’t be too needy. This is enough. Yuuri must just be tired.

But then the next night it happens again.

Viktor changes into his pajamas, crawls into bed, and rests his head in his husband’s lap. Yuuri picks up the book and begins to read, laying his free hand on Viktor’s arm. Viktor’s scalp tingles with the absence. Only when Yuuri says “the end” and puts the book back on the end table does Viktor realize he didn’t hear a word. He doesn’t know which fairy tale Yuuri had read to him, he only knows that he wants _so badly_ for Yuuri to weave his fingers through his hair and he’s _not._

He sits up and seizes Yuuri’s mouth in a kiss, his heart pounding in his throat as he half expects Yuuri not to kiss him back. Something is wrong, Yuuri doesn’t want to touch him, and there’s nothing Viktor can do about it because he would never force—

Oh. Alright. Okay. Yuuri’s mouth melts into Viktor’s, kissing him back with as much passion as ever. Viktor exhales sharply and tries to force his heart to calm.

“Are you okay?” Yuuri asks, pulling back slightly.

“Yes,” Viktor replies, breathless. “Are you?”

Yuuri smiles slyly. “I’m more than okay.”

“Good. That’s good.”

The next evening, Viktor makes sure to flaunt his hair at every chance he gets. He brushes out the shoulder-length locks in full view of his husband. When Yuuri says his name and Viktor turns around, he makes sure to flick his hair dramatically out behind him. And when he crawls into bed to lay his head in Yuuri’s lap, he makes sure the silver strands are splayed out temptingly across Yuuri’s thighs.

Yuuri picks up the book and keeps his hands to himself. In labored Rossiyan, he begins. 

“Once upon a time—”

“Wait. Yuuri, wait.”

Viktor rolls onto his back and looks up at Yuuri. It’s a funny angle, but one Viktor isn’t entirely unfamiliar with.

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know, is it?”

Yuuri sucks in a breath. “You look mad.”

“I’m not—” Viktor begins, but decides he can’t have this conversation with his head in Yuuri’s lap. He sits up and spins around, crossing his legs in front of him. “Yuuri. I’m not mad. I’m just… confused.”

“Why?”

Viktor swallows. He bunches the fabric of his pajama pants beneath his hands and forces his face to remain neutral. “I don’t get why you won’t touch me.”

“I… _what?”_

“Usually you play with my hair while you read to me, but the past few nights you’ve stopped touching me. It’s alright if you don’t want to, really, I just… I want to know why.”

Viktor hears Yuuri’s breath catch. The prince opens his mouth, flounders, and closes it again. “Ah,” he says eventually, his voice weak. “That.”

Viktor’s stomach promptly ties itself into knots.

“Yes. That.”

“Vitya, I… we haven’t talked about it.”

“About what?”

“Your hair.”

Viktor reaches up and twists the split end of a silver strand between his fingers. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“No! No, Vitya, your hair is lovely, it’s beautiful as always, that’s—” Yuuri huffs. He looks away. “That’s the problem.”

Viktor blinks very slowly, trying to catch up. “The problem.”

A hand settles on top of Viktor’s bent knee. Yuuri’s thumb rubs little circles over his pajamas. 

“You’ve been growing your hair out,” Yuuri says gently, as if he’s reminding Viktor of something very obvious. 

Something Viktor had, somehow, not even considered.

“I have?”

Yuuri raises an eyebrow. “You haven’t gone to _Okaasan_ to get it cut in months. It’s nearly down to your shoulders, you—you’ve had to tie it back while dancing the last few days!” 

“I suppose it’s gotten a bit longer than normal, but I didn’t really intend… I just… it feels so _nice_.”

“Your hair?”

“Your _hands_ in my hair, Yuuri.”

“...Oh.”

“And I suppose I noticed that it didn’t feel as good after I got it cut. It’s so much better when it’s long enough for you to wrap your fingers around. And then you do that thing where you pull it all upward so gently and it—it feels _so good.”_

Yuuri stares at him in clear disbelief. His eyes flicker from Viktor’s bangs to his eyes to the uneven ends that hang down to his shoulders. “That’s all? That’s really it?”

“Is that not enough?”

“No, it’s— It’s just. Vitya. Cutting off your hair was so important to you. It made you feel free. I was just worried that it would bring back some bad memories, having it long. I wanted to respect your choice to grow it back but I didn’t want to… to hurt you, somehow, by touching it in a way that made you uncomfortable.”

The mattress beneath him is sturdy, but Viktor feels a little like it’s fallen out from under him. “Yuuri, that’s—” _ridiculous,_ he was about to say, except it’s not. It’s not ridiculous, and Yuuri is not wrong to worry. In the year and a half since the Rossiyan ship disappeared on the horizon, Viktor has had a number of… call them _episodes._ He could never really predict what would cause them, except that he would find himself utterly frozen as waves of memory slammed into him, drowning him in helpless terror. He’d forget how to breathe, forget his body was his own, forget the curse was ever broken. Ghostly hands would run up his spine, over his shoulders, through his hair, there and not there at the same time. He would be paralyzed, and there was nothing he could do but wait for it to pass.

No, Yuuri was not ridiculous to think his hands in Viktor’s long hair might have brought back unwelcome memories. Not when Viktor can so easily conjure up the feeling of the ambassador’s hands knotted around his ponytail, jerking his head back and yanking strands from his scalp. 

Viktor shudders.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Yuuri whispers, taking Viktor’s hand so gently in his. 

“I know,” Viktor says, because he’s spent the past year and a half anchored to this immutable fact. He weaves his fingers in between Yuuri’s, running the pad of his thumb over Yuuri’s wedding ring. “I know that sometimes, the things that… upset me… are unpredictable. But please. _Please._ Don’t let that keep you from touching me.”

Yuuri sucks in a breath. “Never. Never, Vitya. It’s just, with your hair, I wasn’t sure what you wanted. I didn’t really notice it had grown, either, until you pulled it back the other day, and I didn’t know what to do. I want you to be able to wear your hair however you like, Vitya, I just didn’t know if touching you like that would make it better or worse.”

“That makes sense,” Viktor acknowledges. Yuuri is always so thoughtful. It fills Viktor with such pleasant warmth. “I really didn’t notice it was getting longer, either, or what that might mean. I just thought of you. The way you touch me, the way you make me feel.”

Yuuri’s cheeks flush pink. “Oh.”

“You can always ask me, you know. If you’re unsure.” Viktor has found that Yuuri sometimes needs this, a bit of reassurance to pull him out of the cycle of worry in his head. And he worries about Viktor a _lot,_ as if Viktor’s trauma were his own. “I always feel better when we talk, anyway.”

“Okay. I’ll ask. I promise,” Yuuri replies, squeezing Viktor’s hand tightly in his own.

“What if I do want to grow it out again?” Viktor wonders. “I miss it, sometimes. Do you remember when you braided it for me?”

Yuuri hums softly. “I’ll never forget.” 

“I loved that. And I loved seeing it stream out behind me as I danced, and taking the time to brush it out… I just hated how they touched it. But now. Now it’s just me and you.”

“Just you and me,” Yuuri echoes, his eyes soft.

“I think I want to grow it out again,” Viktor admits. His voice is thick, the words sticky. There’s a ball of pressure at the base of his throat. “I don’t want that to belong to him anymore.”

Yuuri’s smile is so soft and so sad. “Come here,” he whispers and pulls their joined hands toward him. Viktor lays down in an instant, sinking his head into Yuuri’s lap. He exhales an uneven breath and goes pliant beneath Yuuri’s touch.

Once upon a time, Yuuri would have asked, _can I touch your hair_ and waited for Viktor to say yes. Now, after a year as a married couple, they know each other well enough not to need those words. Consent and trust blanket the air between them, swaddling them together. 

Yuuri slides his fingers into Viktor’s hair, and every nerve in Viktor’s body, from his scalp down to his toes, lights up in delight. The warmth of Yuuri’s palm, the softness of his fingertips, and the sharp edge of his nails are all Viktor can feel, utterly subsumed by the touch. It can’t be an exaggeration to call this feeling _ecstasy._

Yuuri has so much power in his hands as he wraps his fingers around the long strands of Viktor’s hair. He can take Viktor apart in the best and worst of ways. And Viktor just lays there, sighing softly and trusting.

They don’t read a fairy tale that night. The bedtime story is Yuuri’s love for Viktor whispered over and over again as Viktor melts in his lap. Before long, Yuuri’s hands in his hair stop lighting him on fire and start to soothe him like the hot spring waters of their bathtub. Waves of calm lap at his fingers and toes until he’s entirely submerged, feeling nothing but Yuuri’s touch and an unbreakable sense of peace.

“Goodnight, my prince,” Viktor thinks he hears, right before he drifts off to sleep in his husband’s arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed this little snippet of their life after the original story. Please leave a comment and let me know what you thought!
> 
> find me on tumblr at [stammiviktor](https://stammiviktor.tumblr.com/)


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